


Prodigal Son

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-04
Updated: 2000-03-04
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Eight-year-old Ben shows up in Whitehorse one day.  But was it he or his father who was the real runaway?





	Prodigal Son

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Prodigal Son

## Prodigal Son

by Mary

* * *

NOTES: We saw the two Fraser men on dueSouth troubled by guilt for their separate reasons. For most of the series, it appeared that a lot of Bob's guilty conscience stemmed from his perceived failure as a father to Ben and possibly as a husband to Caroline. In "Call of the Wild," we learned of a very traumatic event in Bob's life and the action he took in response to it - - an action which very likely may have tremendously magnified his feelings of guilt and greatly threatened his sense of self-worth. Taking this information into consideration, I have peeked into Bob Fraser's psyche: his thoughts about himself, his son, and his life, and his struggles to reconcile these feelings. 

DISCLAIMER: Alliance owns Bob, Ben, Caroline, Grandma, and Grandpa Fraser, Ellen Sturn and her husband, Matt, and daughter, Maggie, Buck Frobisher, and Gerrard. Their stories inspired my story, and I thank them...kindly. 

Drama; PG-13; Some language and a non-graphic sexual situation; no spoilers, but hints at "Hunting Season" 

**PRODIGAL SON**

By Mary 

I knew Ben had run away from home. I'd already been informed by my parents, who were beside themselves with worry. He had apparently threatened to run away, so Mother and Dad reckoned he might disappear for a few hours as he had once or twice before, and if he wasn't home by suppertime, Dad would go to Ben's secret place to get him. There was no sign of him at his secret place, however, and soon the day had passed and Mother and Dad were faced with their first night without Ben tucked in under their roof. 

As soon as I received the message, I left Buck Frobisher, with a promise to return to the trail with him soon, and hurried back to the Whitehorse Detachment. I was certain that by the time I got there, Ben would be safely home and properly welcomed and chastised by his grandparents, and I would be free to continue my own safely uninvolved life. Ben wasn't home, however. And it had been over two days since his disappearance. 

I stuck close to the Detachment all day, figuring I would head up north if Ben wasn't found by nightfall. I certainly never expected him to show up in Whitehorse, so you coulda knocked me over with a feather when I entered the station later that afternoon and they told me my son was waiting for me in the interview room. "What's he doing here?" I'd asked, when actually what I wanted to know was how he'd gotten there. The Constable informed me he'd shown up at the station, all alone, a duffel bag slung over his back, asking, nice-as-you-please, if his father was around and if he might speak to him. 

I peeked through the small window before entering the interview room and, sure enough, there he sat, still as a schoolboy, hands folded beside his Stetson where it lay on the table, the duffel bag neatly deposited at his side. I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that we were about to embark on yet another of our 'I wanna stay with you, Dad'...'Well, you can't' arguments, which always left Ben feeling unwanted and me feeling guilty. But what concerned me even more was wondering how the hell an eight-year-old boy managed to find his way here from Inuvik? 

"How the heck did you get here, Son?" I asked, finally barging into the room with urgency. 

Ben jumped to his feet and stood straight before me. "Hello, Sir." 

That was a far cry from an answer to my question. 

"That was not an answer to my question!" I barked, standing near him with my hands on my hips. I could have been a little less demanding, I suppose, but we were on my turf, so I was following my normal cop's instincts. 

"I, um, walked, Sir." 

"You walked all this way?" 

"People gave me rides sometimes." 

"Where are Grandma and Grandpa?" I made sure to keep the questions coming at a quick pace. 

"At home, I guess, Sir." 

"And why aren't you at home with them, where you belong?" 

"Um..." He was searching for his words. 

"Did they send you here?" I prodded, refusing to wait for his answer. 

"No, Sir." 

"I see. You ran away, then?" 

Ben looked away for a second, then back up at me. "I told 'em I was gonna." 

"And that makes it all right?" I questioned him sarcastically, with a slight rise in my voice. He continued to look at me, but didn't answer. "Did they give you permission to run away?" 

"No, Sir." He squinted his eyes and added, "It's not runnin' away if you got permission, Dad." I had to repress a smirk because he wasn't being snotty. He genuinely thought I didn't understand the concept of running away. 

"Sit down and don't move," I ordered him, then made my way to the door. 

"Where're you goin'?" he asked softly. 

"To call your grandparents and let them know you're all right. They've been worried sick." 

"I told 'em I was comin' here, Dad. They didn't hafta worry." 

"We'll talk when I get back. Believe me, Mister, we'll talk!" I let the door slam behind me, then watched through the window as he took his seat and folded his hands to wait for my return. 

* * *

"Don't get up," I said as Ben started to rise from his chair when I reentered the interview room. I kept my eyes focused sternly on him while I paced around the table, letting him stew for a while before I spoke. I coulda screamed a reprimand at the top of my lungs. I coulda given him a good, firm kick in the pants. He deserved it all, to be sure. But I couldn't bring myself to do any of that. Despite logic, I was in awe of this little man who had set his mind to do something and had done it, however ill-conceived it may have been. "Let's go!" I finally ordered, motioning for him to follow as I moved toward the door. 

He didn't ask any questions. I knew he must've wondered where I was taking him, but I reckoned he deserved to be the one to worry for a spell. But, if he was worried, he refused to show it. He seemed almost eager as he followed me. 

"Uh, no, Ben," I stopped him when we got to the door. "Go get your bag and bring it with you." 

"Yes, Sir." 

* * *

"Ah, you found your father!" Gerrard greeted Ben as we came to the front desk on our way out of the building. 

"Yes, thank you, Sir." 

I have to admit to feeling a certain amount of pride as I stood among my peers with my son at my side, wearing that silly hat. "I'm takin' a few days, Gerrard. This young cadet and I have some, er, business to attend to," I said as my fingers applied a meaningful pressure to the back of Ben's neck. "If anyone needs me, you can reach me by radio, okay?" 

"Sure thing, Fraser. And, eh, if your boy would like a look around the place, I'm sure Constable Burns here would be happy to oblige." 

"Oh, yes," the Constable looked up from his work at the desk. "Anytime, Sergeant." 

"Yes, well, thank you, Constable, but the boy needs something else at the moment. Perhaps another time." 

"Right you are, Sergeant. So long, Benton," Burns offered a handshake to Ben. "It was a pleasure to meet you." 

"You, too, Mister. 'Bye." 

Ben never spoke all the way to the truck, nor as we drove away from town, so I kept silent as well. I preferred to lecture him when I didn't have to keep my mind on the road. His apprehension did become a little more apparent, however, the farther we drove from town. He curiously scanned the few road signs we passed, trying to figure out where we were going. I imagine he feared I was taking him straight home to his grandparents. When he took out his compass and began calculating our heading, I couldn't keep quiet. It was the compass I'd sent him after hearing about his getting lost in Aklavik when he wandered from his grandparents. He was using it expertly. 

"We still heading north, Son?" 

"Uh huh." 

"Good." 

"What's north, Dad?" 

"What's north? Why, it's the opposite of south, I suppose." 

"No, I know that, Dad. I mean, what's up there, north?" 

"Up there, where, exactly?" 

"I dunno." 

"Ah, well, the North is a big place. There's lots up there. Although some would say there's little. Depends on your perspective, I guess." I knew very well what he was asking, of course. And he caught on quick that I wasn't going to answer him. He tucked his compass back into his pocket and, after an hour or so, his head slumped against the window and he slept for the remainder of the trip. 

* * *

"Wake up, Son," I called, with a shake to his thigh, after we'd reached my cabin. "We're there." 

He stirred slowly, yawning and stretching, but not yet opening his eyes. The little fellow was plain tuckered out from his long journey. I almost hated to wake him, but I was determined to deal with this matter now rather than later. I lay on the horn, and he jumped awake with a start. 

"Let's go inside," I said, taking his Stetson from the dashboard and dropping it onto his lap. 

After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he put on the hat and sat up and, upon noticing that he didn't recognize the place, asked, "Where is this, Dad?" 

"Grab your bag. Let's go," I replied, intentionally ignoring his question. 

He was very obedient, I must say. Never resisted an order or whined about my keeping him in the dark. I reckoned either he was too afraid to question me or he trusted me implicitly. Although I wanted to think it was the latter, I doubted that I'd been the kind of father who would inspire such faith. 

"Dad, I hafta go to the bathroom," he said after I led him inside the cabin and showed him where to unload his bag. He didn't really have to tell me that. One look at a kid in that state, and it's obvious in their body language. 

"You'll have to take care of that outside, I'm afraid. None of those modern conveniences here. Want me to come with you?" Don't ask me why I asked that. We both knew he had plenty of experience handling himself in the wilderness. But there was something about him that was getting to me. I felt overwhelming responsibility, almost guilt, for something, and felt as if I owed him...something. Even if it was just to hold his hand while he peed in the woods. 

"No, I can do it myself," he replied as he squirmed toward the door, holding back his need. 

"Of course you can. Of course. You, uh, you go ahead, and I'll, er...I'll wait here." Why was I the one stumbling over my words when it was he who was about to get a good chewing- out? "Don't wander too far," I added as he went out the door. Don't wander too far? He'd just come how far, and I was going to deny him a few extra steps if he needed them? 

I got the wood stove burning while Ben was outdoors, and didn't even hear him come back inside and take a seat on his duffel bag. I jumped slightly to find him sitting there and then cleared my throat and put on my stern, authoritative face to let him know it was time to get down to business. 

"That's a mighty big bag," I pointed out, after hunkering down in front of him. "You got everything you own in there?" 

"Almost." 

"Hmm. How come?" 

"'Cause I might need it." 

"Well, I suppose there's a certain logic to that. And just why'd you figure on needing to come down here with all that stuff?" 

He shrugged, but I could tell he had something very specific on his mind. 

"Tell me the truth, Son." 

"'Cause Grandma and Grandpa are movin'." 

"Yes, they told me. To Alert, right?" 

"Uh huh. But I don't wanna move." 

"Well, that can't be true or you wouldn't've come down here with everything you own in the world, now, would ya?" I stumped him for a moment with that one. I did manage to outsmart him every once in a while, even if only briefly. 

"I don't wanna move to Alert," he clarified. 

"Ah." 

"Grandpa showed it to me on the map and it's way, way, far away." 

"Way far away from what, Son?" I was almost certain I was the what, but I prayed he wouldn't admit it in so many words. "From Inuvik?" 

"Yeah. No. I dunno. Just far away, Dad." 

"I see. Well, you know, if you give it a try, you might actually like it there." 

"I don't think I will." 

I let some of my irritation escape with a little huff of my breath and, as I stared at Ben, I could see that he was expecting a sharp rebuke. But the best I could do was to tap his thigh and state, "Well, I'm sorry, Ben, but you're going back home tomorrow." 

"But I just got here." He was disappointed, but I doubt he was surprised by my declaration. 

"I'm taking you home tomorrow. End of story." I stood up to emphasize my point. Besides, being in that crouch was cutting off the circulation in my legs. 

"Yes, Sir." He didn't argue. He didn't even pout. He just dropped his head and watched his index finger absent-mindedly trace along the seams of his duffel bag. 

"You got some night clothes in there?" I asked, nodding toward the bag. 

"Uh huh." 

"Dig 'em out and change into 'em. I'll fix us a bite to eat, then we'd better hit the sack so we can get an early start in the morning. It's a long trail ahead of us...but I guess you know that," I added with a wink. 

I kept a curious eye on him as he prepared himself for bed while I opened a can of macaroni and set it on the burner. There's something about the sight of a young child in his pajamas at the end of the day. It makes you momentarily believe all is right with the world, even when you know damn well that's not the case. Perhaps that knowledge and my need for reassurance is the very reason I couldn't take my eyes off of him. That, and the other...memories...seeing him brought to mind. There was a lot of Caroline in him. Too much for me to handle sometimes. 

"Come 'n get it, Son," I announced as I filled a bowl for him. 

He ran over to me, mumbled a "Thanks," and started to take the bowl with him to his little corner of the room. 

"Sit with me, Ben." I indicated the table with a nod of my head. "You didn't come all the way here to hide in that corner, did you?" 

I watched him carry his bowl to the table then pull out the chair across from mine and climb into it. He didn't speak or look at me, but I sensed he knew I was looking at him. 

"You're hungry, aren't ya?" I asked. 

"Uh huh." He stared at his bowl as he ate enthusiastically. Despite his disappointment at having to go home, at that moment, eating a simple supper with me in my cabin, he appeared blissfully content. 

"I, uh..." I cleared my throat to make sure I had his attention, "...we moved around a lot, you know, when I was growin' up." 

"You did?" Ben always listened eagerly to my stories. If he was just being polite, he did a damn good job feigning interest. 

"Well, your grandmother was a schoolteacher, you know. And she and Dad started their library. It was quite small, at first, but as the need grew, so did the library. They always wanted to be where they could do the most good, so, whenever they discovered there was a greater need elsewhere, we'd have to pull up stakes and move the whole kit 'n caboodle. You know, it got so's if we didn't move every coupla years or so, I'd get bored." 

Ben didn't look at me, but I could tell he was listening. His brow was furrowed in thought. "Is that why you moved here, Dad? 'Cause you were bored?" 

"No, Ben. No, no," I insisted, pushing my supper away. My tactic had backfired, miserably. "I didn't move here. Not exactly." 

"Oh. I thought you were livin' here." 

"I am. I mean, I stay here sometimes, you know, when I'm working down here. But my home is up with you and your grandparents." 

"Are you gonna come with us to Alert?" he asked, finally looking at me. 

"Yes, of course," I stupidly tried to brush off his question. 

"You are?" He looked truly hopeful, and I kicked myself for treating his question so offhandedly, because now I was gonna have to dash that hope I saw in his eyes. 

"Well, I'm not, strictly speaking, coming with you, no. Alert is, er..." 

"Too far away?" he offered. 

"No, not too far away...exactly." I gave a desperate sigh, wondering how to get out of this one. "I don't work in Alert, Son. I work here, and, uh, hereabouts. This is where I'm..." I knew I shouldn't say it, but I did, "...needed." 

"Okay, Dad," he stated simply and went back to eating. "Can I have some milk?" 

I wrinkled my face in amazement -- no, in admiration. Courage and strength such as I was seeing from him were rare enough in adults, but in a child were nothing short of extraordinary. He already was the man I always hoped he'd be someday. A better man than me. But a part of me missed the child. 

"Dad, can I have some milk?" he repeated when I failed to answer. 

"Ah, yes, certainly." I stood up, then remembered. "Oh. No. I don't have any milk. Sorry. I have, um, a couple of beers and, er, water." I felt so inadequate. I thought perhaps a joke would help. "Would you like a beer, Son?" 

"Can I?" He stared at me in wonder. 

I reckoned he knew I was kidding, but, just to be sure, I flashed him a grin. He responded in kind -- the first smile, and, indeed, the first emotion he'd shown since I'd found him at the station that afternoon \-- so I deemed my joke a success. 

"I'll get you a glass of water." 

"Okay, Dad." 

* * *

I tucked Ben under the covers then sat up in the bed beside him, leaning back against the wall with my hands behind my head, too restless to sleep. I wished that Caroline were there to give Ben a good night kiss -- or at least his grandmother -- but he settled in easily enough without. 

"G'night, Dad," he yawned. 

"Good night, Son. Pleasant dreams." 

"Do you have dreams, Dad?" 

"Hmm, sometimes." 

"Are they pleasant ones?" 

"Some are, some aren't." 

"Mine, too." 

"Go to sleep. Your dreams'll be pleasant tonight." 

"How d'you know?" 

"Just a gut feeling. And my gut never steers me wrong." 

"Is that like when you know somethin', but you don't know how you know it?" 

"Yup." 

"My gut does that, too, sometimes." 

"Really?" I pulled the blankets off him, leaned over, and put my ear to his stomach, as if listening. "Oh, yes, I see what you mean. I think it's saying something right now." I heard him giggle into my other ear, and I lifted my face and smiled at him. 

"What's it sayin', Dad?" he laughed. 

"Hmm, I can't quite make it out. I suspect it'll only tell it to you. Don't ya hear it?" 

I watched him scrunch up his face as he labored to hear what his gut was telling him. "Kinda, I guess," he replied. "I'm not sure." 

"Let me try again," I said with a wink as I put my ear to his stomach once more. "Maybe it'll talk to your old man." I could see Ben watching me very intently, and he placed a hand on my head and started to twirl my hair around his finger. "Ah, yes, there it is." 

"What, Dad?" 

"Are ya sure you want me to tell you? 'Cause you're gonna feel pretty silly when you realize you knew it all along." 

"Yes, Dad. Tell me. Tell me." 

"Well, okay." I kept my ear to his stomach and spoke slowly and broken, as if repeating what it was telling me, a phrase at a time. "Your father...oh, I guess that'd be me, eh?" 

"Uh huh." 

"...I...your father...is always aware that you are his son...and knows where you are...no matter how far away you are...and is always there with you...in spirit." I felt Ben stop twirling his finger in my hair and, instead, grab a hunk of it in a tight fist. "Ow!" I uttered, but to no avail. "Son, Son, that smarts. You're pulling my hair." I reached my hand up to his and gently pried open his fist, then lifted my head to look at him. "How does that sound to you?" I asked with raised eyebrows. 

"Okay." 

"Just okay?" 

"I, um, like it better when you're really there." 

"Yes, yes, of course. So do I. So does everybody when they, um, when they..." I looked him in the eyes and realized I was going to have to say it. "...when they, er, you know, love someone." I pretty much whispered those last words, but I did say them. Although Ben likes to swear up and down that I never once told him I loved him, it simply isn't true. I had my own way of telling him; he just didn't know how to listen. Or perhaps I was incapable of speaking his language. 

I had to look away; the emotion I could see in his face, even in the dim lantern light, was threatening to overpower me. "You know that, in your gut, don't you, Ben?" 

"Yeah, sometimes. But sometimes I forget." 

"Well, I never forget. Whatever else I may or may not do, once I got something in my brain, I don't ever let it go. You can count on that." I hesitantly turned my gaze back to him to receive his response. 

"Okay." 

I noticed that he wasn't smiling anymore, but there was nothing else I could tell him. I had done my best. With a forced smile, I gave his stomach a quick rub, then pulled the covers back over him, and he curled onto his side, closed his eyes, and went to sleep. Without another word. I hoped he heard and believed what I told him -- at least a little bit. 

* * *

It took us about a day and a half to get to Inuvik from my cabin. I had to do all the driving, so rest breaks were necessary. And Ben seemed to be enjoying his little adventure away from his normal routine, so I figured I'd prolong it a bit for him. 

However, I'd noticed a change in Ben right after breakfast on the second morning of our trip. Instead of pestering me with question after question, as he had during the previous day's drive mostly about being a Mountie, which, I have to admit, I thoroughly enjoyed answering he was suddenly very quiet. I might even go so far as to say somber. I told a couple funny stories to try to bring him alive, but all I could get out of him was a quick, insincere smile, and then he'd go back to staring out the car window. 

You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out why Ben was so quiet, and it took every bit of my restraint to keep from yelling at him to snap out of it. I knew it wasn't him I was angry with. It shames me to admit it, but I had been known to vent on Ben at times and let him believe he was the cause of my anger. Caroline had possessed the unique ability to calm my rage, and now that I was without her and my soul was filled with even greater discord, it was often a struggle to find the strength of patience within myself. When I'd look at Ben and see his mother in him, it was almost as if she were really there, and my heart would lighten and sadden all at once. Sometimes, I just couldn't bear to look at him. 

Ben wasn't intentionally trying to be unpleasant. It was clear that his sadness was a genuine emotion, not an attitude. I pretended not to notice because I knew it would've made him feel worse if he knew I could see his unhappiness. He didn't want me know. That's why he kept his face turned to the window, away from me. He was attempting a brave front, so I couldn't take that away from him. 

"Well, almost home, Son." 

"Yes, Sir." 

"It sure will feel good to stretch our legs after being cooped up in this truck for two days, eh?" 

"I didn't mind it." 

"No? Well, your legs are a bit shorter than mine." 

"I like long rides. They're, um, fun." 

"Yeah? You had fun?" 

"Uh huh. It was even funner ridin' with you than it was with the other people who gave me rides after I, um, ran away." 

"Why, thank you, Son." I gave a quick pat to his thigh. "You're fun to ride with, too." I didn't take my eyes off the road, but with my peripheral vision I could see him turn to me and smile. 

"Maybe we can take rides again, Dad, when you're not too busy." 

"I would imagine we can do that er, sometime. But, it might be better if you let me arrange it, you know, instead of you just showing up one day." 

"Okay." 

"Good man." 

"Will you really 'range it, Dad?" 

"I said I would, didn't I?" 

"Yeah." 

"Well, there you are, then." 

"Dad?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Can I come to your cabin sometimes?" 

"You like the cabin, do ya?" 

"I think it's the best cabin I ever saw." 

I smiled, but I didn't answer him. I didn't wanna make any more promises I wasn't sure I could keep. I wasn't exactly a homebody, even at the cabin. 

"Dad?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Are we real close to home?" 

"Yes, not far at all now." 

"Um, what do ya think's gonna happen when we get there, Dad?" 

"Happen?" 

"Yeah, you know. When Grandma and Grandpa, um, see me." 

"Well, first off, you owe a big, fat apology to your grandparents. So I reckon that'd better be the first thing to happen, eh?" 

"Yeah, I know. I will, Dad. But they're still prob'ly gonna be pretty mad at me. I got one of those, um, feelin's in my gut." 

I paused before responding. I knew he was asking me to intervene with them on his behalf, but I wasn't so sure that I should. "Only 'cause they love ya. Otherwise, they wouldn't care a hoot if you did something stupid and dangerous." 

"Too bad they love me then, huh, Dad? 'Cause if they didn't, I wouldn't get in trouble." He was grinning and joking, and I couldn't have been prouder of him. 

* * *

Early that afternoon, I pulled the truck up, just outside my parents' house, and shut off the engine. Ben and I sat still and silent for a moment, locking up the memory of our journey so we'd never lose it. I heard a sigh escape my lips and then Ben turned to look up at me. 

"Thanks for the ride, Dad." 

"Yeah, well, I prob'ly shoulda taught you a good lesson and made ya walk back," I teased. "But your grandmother woulda had my hide." 

He chuckled shyly, then became serious. "Can I give you somethin', Dad?" 

"Give me something?" 

"Yeah. I brought it with me when I, um, came to see ya, but I didn't, um, know when I should give it to ya." 

"What is it, Son?" 

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a hand-stitched leather wallet and held it out to me. "I, um, made it for ya." 

"You made this? For me?" I asked with genuine surprise and delight as I took the wallet and examined it. 

"Uh huh. Grandma showed me how." 

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing as I caressed the fine leather between the palms of my hands. 

"It's prob'ly not very good--" he started to say, evidently thinking I was not impressed. 

"It's marvelous, Son," I interrupted. 

"Do ya really think so?" 

"I know so. Fine workmanship. The best wallet I ever saw," I assured him with a grateful smile and was pleased to see him grin and let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Son." 

"You're welcome, Dad." 

He hesitantly reached out and placed his hand on my thigh. I stared at his hand for a few seconds, then put my hand on top of his and we both sat there, looking straight ahead out the window. 

"I suppose we may as well go in, or they'll just come out 'n get us," I interrupted the silence and lifted his hand and dropped it onto his own thigh with a little slap of encouragement. 

He nodded and forced a smile. After I helped him fetch his bag from the back of the truck, we walked to the house together and got to the door just as my mother was coming outside to greet us. 

"Well, look who's home -- the prodigal son!" she exclaimed a bit sarcastically with a quick glance at me and then a longer, more pointed gaze at Ben. It wasn't at all clear who she was calling prodigal. 

"Hi, Grandma," Ben offered after I patted him on the back to urge him on. 

"Hello, honey." She held the door open so Ben could pass through, and I put my arm out to take that task from her and greeted her cheek with a kiss. 

"Hello, Mother. I, uh, got him back home as quick as I could." 

"Yes. I wasn't sure when to expect you home, but I was just so relieved when you called to say he was with you." 

"I know. I was relieved to see him, too." I escorted my mother into the house and we found that Ben had already disappeared. 

"Well, where did that boy get off to, now!" Mother cried in exasperation. "I haven't even had my hug and kiss yet!" 

"Benton!" I bellowed for him. "Where are you, boy?" 

"In my room, Dad," the answer came back. 

"Well, get out here, Son." 

He came running back into the room and stood before me. "I was just puttin' my stuff away, Dad." 

"That can wait." I leaned down and placed my hands firmly on his shoulders. "Don't you have something more important to do right now? Remember what we talked about earlier?" 

"Yes, Sir." With a little shove from me, he inched his way closer to his grandmother and hung his head as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Grandma, I'm, um, real sorry. Real, real sorry, Grandma. Really." 

"Okay, honey. I know you are." She crouched down to his level. "Now come here, you little dickens, so I can hug and kiss the living daylights out of you!" 

He ran into her outstretched arms and they kissed and squeezed the living daylights out of each other. And a little of my guilty conscience was eased to know that he felt loved by someone, even if I was useless at letting him know how greatly I loved him myself. 

Mother finally held him out in front of her and cupped his chin as she spoke. "What on Earth possessed you to run so far from me and your grandpa, sweetie?" 

"I wasn't runnin' from you, Grandma." 

"No, I suppose, strictly speaking, you weren't. Nevertheless..." she tugged on his ear and looked down at him under raised eyebrows, as if she were about to scold him. 

"He came to tell me about your upcoming move to Alert, Mother," I interceded. "Apparently, he was afraid that I didn't know about it and wouldn't be able to find you all. But we've talked it out and he understands now. So, I don't think we need to say another word about it." I squirmed and coughed a little after my speech. Even as an adult, it wasn't easy to put my foot down with Mother. But I was glad I had when I noticed Ben turn around in his grandmother's arms and send a grateful grin my way. 

"I see. Very well, then. The matter is considered closed. However," she stressed firmly to Ben, "if you ever again take off like that against my wishes, I will have a lot to say about it. Understand, honey?" 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

"All right, then. Why don't you go finish putting your things away. Then we'll have some lunch." 

"Okay, but where's Grandpa, Grandma?" 

"He's taking a nap. He barely had a wink of sleep while he was out looking for you, so he's exhausted." 

"Oh." Ben blushed with guilt. 

"He's going to be very excited to see you, sweetheart, but for now I think you'd better be extra quiet and not disturb him." 

"Okay. I won't make any noise. I promise." 

"Scoot!" she said, and sent him on his way with a smile and a hearty slap to his bottom. Once he was gone, she turned to me. "I hope you were firm with him, Robert. I know he didn't mean any harm, but he must be corrected when he makes a mistake." 

I didn't have the energy to argue with her. "I need to stretch my legs," I stated, then headed for the door. 

"Robert!" 

"I'll be back, Mother. I'm just goin' for a walk." 

* * *

Mother cajoled me into spending the rest of the day with them. I couldn't say no when I saw the hopeful, pleading eyes gazing up at me from my son's face. I dreaded saying good-bye to him, but not because I thought he was going to make a fuss. In fact, quite the opposite. Because I knew he wouldn't make a fuss. I knew he'd stand tall and shake my hand and wish me a good trip. The more I thought about it, the more I knew I couldn't endure that. 

After Mother and Dad went to bed that night, I snuck into Ben's room and sat beside him on his bed, watching him sleep. I dozed for a while and, when I awoke, Ben was snuggled up to me with his arm encircling my waist. "Ben," I whispered, but got no response. I wasn't convinced that he wasn't feigning, but I relaxed and allowed him to hold me as I drifted in and out of sleep for a couple hours. 

Well before dawn, I lifted Ben's arm from around me, slipped off the bed, and pulled the blankets over his shoulders. I leaned down and kissed his head, knowing full-well that kissing a sleeping child would not absolve me of the sin of slinking away under cover of night. Yet, sin I did. 

* * *

I don't even remember driving that morning. My mind was still back at the house in Inuvik, running through every conceivable scenario of events upon Ben's waking to discover that I had denied him a farewell. And the string of imagined scenarios left a progressively bitterer taste in my mouth. 

I tried to push Ben out of my mind, but it was useless. He was all I could think of. I needed a distraction. Perhaps that's why I suddenly found myself parked outside Ellen's cabin. I don't know how I wound up there. I hadn't consciously planned to pay her a visit, and her cabin was quite a ways off the beaten path, but there I was, just about the time Ben might be sitting down to breakfast. 

Ellen Sturn was a good friend, as her husband had also been before he died in a mining accident a little over a year earlier. I'm quite certain he would have given his blessing to what happened between me and Ellen after his death. She was lonely. I was lonely. And although I didn't love her with the same passion I had loved Caroline -- and still did love Caroline -- I did love her. She accepted me -- everything about me. Things I had done and was too ashamed to admit to most people. Things I could not accept about myself. Our time together was precious to me and when I made love to her, I touched a part of my soul that I feared was all but dead. 

* * *

"You're living here, in the middle of nowhere, all alone with a three-month-old baby? How do you manage, Ellen?" I asked incredulously as I sat across from her and watched her nurse the little girl. Her cabin was, indeed, in the middle of nowhere. 

"Women are more resourceful than you give them credit for, Bob. Wasn't your Caroline home alone with your son a good deal of the time?" She hit a nerve, and she knew it immediately. "I'm sorry, Bob. I didn't mean to imply--" 

"No, Ellen, it's okay. You're quite right. I had no place asking such a question." 

"Oh, now, you were just showing concern. I know that. I think it was sweet of you to ask." 

"Sweet?" I repeated her word, coyly. 

"Very sweet, in a chauvinistic kinda way." 

I blushed and returned the smile she was lavishing on me. "Now, that is sweet," I said, indicating the little bundle she now held to her shoulder. 

"Would you like to hold her?" Ellen stood up and walked toward me with the infant. 

"Oh, no, no, I don't think--" 

"Yes, you must. You simply must." 

I couldn't refuse as she gently forced the baby into my arms. I feared I might cry as I looked down at that new life. "I don't know why I must," I muttered uncomfortably. "It's not like I'm her father, thank God." 

"Why do you say 'thank God'?" 

"Believe me, the last thing this world needs is another child with me as its father." 

She sat on the arm of my chair and began to massage my neck. "Are you opposed to being a father, Bob?" 

"No, no, I wouldn't say that. Not exactly. It's more like fatherhood is opposed to me. Just ask my son, Benton. He'll tell you. I don't even stick around long enough to say good-bye. I snuck out this morning while everyone was still sound asleep." 

"You're not the type to be tied down, that's for sure. But you have other qualities." 

"Yeah, such as cowardice. I'm a coward as a man and as a father." 

"You're a Mountie, for Heaven's sake!" 

"And a cowardly one, at that." 

"That's just nonsense and you know it. You've got medals for bravery." 

"Medals don't make a man. You know me, Ellen. You know...the things I've done." 

She leaned down and kissed my cheek. "So, you're not perfect, Bob. No one is. I'm certainly not," she whispered into my ear and stopped rubbing my neck so she could wrap her arms around me and the baby. You would've thought we were a real family, huddled together like in a portrait. 

"What's her name," I asked, trying to change the subject. 

"Margaret. Matt always wanted to name our first daughter Margaret, after his grandmother. Can't say I'm particularly crazy about the name, but I figure I owe that much to Matt." 

"Hello, little Maggie," I said as I traced her features with a gentle finger. 

"Maggie! Now that name I like," Ellen agreed. "She's my little Maggie from now on." 

"It's a shame her father never got to meet his own little girl," I mused sadly. I felt Ellen kiss the back of my head as I marveled at the child. "And she'll never know her father." I couldn't help wondering if she was better or worse off than Ben. 

* * *

After breakfast, Maggie went down for a nap and Ellen and I enjoyed an intimate romp by the fire. The bed was only meters away in the corner of the room, but Ellen much preferred romance and passion to comfort. She was a sturdy, lively soul. Just what I needed. 

"Did you get any sleep last night?" she asked as we lay naked on the floor, holding each other close under a blanket, and my head became heavy and began to drop against her. 

"Not really. A couple winks here and there." 

"Well, why don't you go lie down on the bed and make yourself comfortable." 

I rolled over on top of her and looked at her with a devious smirk on my face. "Where was that offer a few minutes ago when we were frolicking around on the hard floor like a coupla lusty teenagers?" She slapped my buttocks like a jockey spurring on his horse, and suddenly sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. That sturdy, lively soul was ready for more, so I pressed my silly-grinned face against hers, while the rest of my body enjoyed pinning her body beneath it. This was definitely the distraction I'd been looking for. 

I took a nap then stayed with Ellen the rest of that day and overnight. When I wasn't at play with Ellen, I was entertaining Maggie with goofy faces and baby-talk gibberish or rocking her in my arms, just as I remembered doing with Ben so many years before. This reminder of Ben did sting my conscience a bit, especially since I was, in effect, cheating him by spending the day with another child, a child who wasn't even mine. But I forced those thoughts from my mind, telling myself that even I deserved a little happiness wherever I could find it. And, as I held Ellen to me that night in bed, I was at peace. Or at least as at peace as was possible -- for me. 

* * *

My loneliness was immensely magnified the following night as I lay in bed at my cabin. The last time I had slept there, Ben had seen me through the night. And twenty-four short hours earlier I had been blessed with a companionship on a different but equally special scale. I now felt utterly alone, and prayed that Ben's loneliness, of which he never spoke, but which was always evident in his eyes, was not, and would never be, as desperate as mine. 

I got up and, under cover of the night, snuck away to get back on the trail with Buck. 

* * *

**THE END**

maryspen@aol.com 


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